Smallville's Bad Boy
by Diamondquill
Summary: This story is basically an Alternate Universe story--you have to like those or you won't appreaciate this story!


Title: Smallville Reality Change

Author: Diamondquill

Genre: Adventure, romance, etc.

_Disclaimer_: I do not own any of the characters in my story, maybe a few but those can be easily spotted, even though I _wish_ I owned Clark Kent!

Author's Note: This as an alternate universe story which means the characters maybe completely different from what they actually are in the show. The situations maybe different also. Just think of it as a 'what if' game.

Prologue:

"Chloe!"

An exasperated sigh came from the young woman walking down the dim hallway as she turned around slowly. The call of her employer was hesitant, yet confirmed and she knew that her hopes for a large-binder-full-of-work-less weekend would be crushed approximately—

"I hate to do this to you, Chlo, but you're the best here and we really need you for this case!"

--now!

What else did she expect? She knew sleepless nights, long-distance traveling at three in the morning, and an armload of paper-work came with her job package—not just the shiny card with her name printed on it next to the oddly good picture of her.

"It's alright, sir, what's the problem?" She asked Mark Lilfa, her higher officer, after rubbing her forehead softly with the tip of her fingers.

"Not what's the problem, ask me who is the problem."

And thus the long-distance traveling at three in the morning. She checked her watch—12:30 a.m.

"You need to start by the end of the hour," Mark said immediately as if he knew what she was thinking.

Chloe blinked. "That urgent?"

Mark frowned. "Yes, is that a problem?"

Chloe smiled softly. "Um, you see, I spent last night at my friend's house, and they were doing something that I completely forgot about for the past few weeks—they were actually sleeping… at night!"

Mark grinned. "All that paper-work getting to you, huh?"

Chloe nodded. "How do you manage it?"

Mark shrugged. "Simple. I dump it on you."

Chloe frowned. "I am so glad I talked to you, Mark!" She said sarcastically.

"Everyone says that! But now's not the time to discuss it. You have a car waiting downstairs for you, and your emergency bags have been loaded. There's a folder in the car for you as well explaining where you're going and who it is you have to catch for us. There's a cell phone in there with the important phone numbers you may need on this mission and…" He thought quickly to make sure he had said everything he wanted to say, then added, "good luck!"

Chloe, still trying to compensate all the information she had just heard by her slow, fatigued brain, was then turned around and gently shoved toward the exit. She wondered then, why was it that she had taken this job? Oh, yes. This special-bad-guys-catching job as she used to call it at the age of eleven was her dream job. It was all she could think about as she watched the NYPD Blues everyday and it was all she could think about when every one of her annoyingly sweet aunts asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. Of course, they just laughed when she told them her answer but she thought it was the best job in the whole world and didn't care a wink what anyone else thought. She just imagined the shiny card.

If she had known about the work-load, she would have dumped the idea and wished to become a ballerina like a normal eleven-year-old girl. Yet, no one had told her and now, here she was, after five years of training, her life of adventure turned into a life of day-time naps and dreams about goose-feathered pillows and a large, comfy mattress. The same large, comfy mattress… over… and over… again!

She stepped out of the building and a blast of cool wind hit her, striking her awake and alert. She spotted the red car Mark had mentioned at the end of the corner and as she made her way towards it in the silent, distraction-less night, her heart began to take a familiar beat of excitement. She suddenly remembered the one thing she loved about the job—doing it. Meaning what it was actually about: catching the 'special' bad guys. Not the ones who robbed banks and murdered innocent old ladies or anything, the ones who had super-powers of x-ray vision and abnormal strength and who used them for nothing but evil—the exciting guys! She had caught five of them so far—two ladies and three men—and before the starting of each mission, her heart had taken on the same beat it was performing this very second. She had a good feeling about this sixth one —why? No idea! Sixth sense, she supposed—something she had developed over the year of her employment.

She noticed the trunk of the car was opened slightly and pulled it up. Inside was a single silver key. Chloe shook her head. Mark should know better than to leave it out there for anyone to take, but then again, who would be wandering the streets looking for red cars with open trunks at 12:48 in the night? She took the cold key into her hand, shut the trunk and slid into the car.

She felt something cold and metallic against her bottom, sending shivers up her spine. She reached under her and pulled out the item and a red folder. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the unique gun in her hand, designed only for the worst of the worst cases possible. It was the only weapon designed ever that could freeze a mutated opponent and his or her powers, that too only for a few seconds. Chloe never had to use one before because she was usually capable of handling her opponents without a weapon of any sort. Mark knew that… everyone knew that. She was the top of her training and yet, here she was with a weapon previously used just to look cool in her hand. She looked over at the single sheet of paper in the folder to see which lucky guy or girl deserved this honor, scanned the sheet and found the name at the end.

Clark Kent.


End file.
